


Fire Water Burn

by effingbirds



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, half plot/half smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effingbirds/pseuds/effingbirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a herd hits Alexandria Daryl does what it takes to keep Carol safe. It ends up paying off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Water Burn

The herd hit Alexandria hard and fast in the middle of the night. When she reflected on it later, it sort of reminded her of the Titanic; the person on watch didn't even see them coming until it was too late, and the walls were crashing down. She was awoken by the sounds of the screams.

The time she'd spent on the road had done her well she supposed, because she sprang into action despite having been sound asleep only moments before. She tore of out bed, grabbed her knife, and ran down the stairs barefoot, not even bothering to throw a robe on over the tank top and shorts she'd worn to bed. 

The house was quiet, and she felt a sting of panic. The need for her family to be safe was more pressing than her fear for her own life.

She was glad when she bumped into Daryl on the porch, and he looked similarly relieved. He'd been coming to get her if the look on his face was any indication. 

“What's happening?” she asked breathlessly, as Carl shot past them into the house, holding a gun in one hand and bracing Judith on his other arm. 

“Walkers,” Daryl said, grabbing her hand, “C'mon.”

“Carl and Judith...” she began, but Daryl shook his head.

“Carl can handle it, I need you with me.”

She didn't need any more prompting. She followed him out of the house toward the armory.

Most of the walkers hadn't reached their part of the safe zone just yet, and they only had to take out a few along the way. No one else was nearby, and it was unnerving to hear the screams and gunfire in the distance.

The door to the armory was wide open, and the racks half empty. She was relieved to see that her sniper rifle was still there, hanging crookedly from a peg as if someone had grabbed it but had been chastised. Daryl grabbed a bag and stuffed as much ammo as he could into it, his movements stiff and tense. He grabbed her hand again and pulling her toward the door. His palms were sweaty as he gripped her tightly.

“Figure we can set up on a roof,” he said, “It'll be safer up there but that gun's got a good enough range that you can pick off walkers.”

She nodded, but she felt like something was off with him. The way he spoke and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, as if he was carefully gauging her reaction. She followed him across the lawn of the nearest house without questioning him, despite her misgivings.

She wasn't sure whose house it was, but Daryl barged in like he owned the place, not even bothering to knock. He led her through the silent house, kicking aside some kids toys that littered the floor. Carol tried not to think about that.  
Someone outside screamed loudly, and she swallowed a wave of nausea. There was no room for weakness at that moment, and she focused on preparing herself for what was to come.

The window in the attic was already open, and Daryl pushed the screen out. He leaned through to assess the situation and Carol leaned in close to get a look at it too, refusing to get distracted by the way their bare arms brushed against each other. There was about a foot gap between the window and the edge of the roof, with nothing the grab onto in between.

“Ain't gonna be easy gettin' up there,” he said, “I'll boost you up.”

She nodded and set down her gun, carefully climbing onto the windowsill. She glanced down and was immediately hit by a wave of vertigo. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced back the panic that threatened to seize her. She'd never been afraid of heights, but she supposed she'd never climbed onto a roof with a thirty foot drop below her either.

“Don't look down,” Daryl chastised, and gently put his hands on her hips, bracing her.

She nodded and reached up to grab the top of the window frame, trusting him to keep her from falling. She stood on the ledge and leaned out, and felt his arm shifting to encircle her back. Suddenly she wished she'd taken a minute to put on a bra, because with the cool breeze and the adrenaline running through her veins he probably had a pretty nice view. 

His grip shifted as she grabbed the edge of the roof, his rough hand cradling one of her thighs, while the other grasped her foot and placed it against his shoulder. She took the hint, and pushed off him as hard as she could and pulled herself up. She'd never had much in the way of upper body strength, but he kept one hand on her foot and the other on her calf, keeping her balanced as she pulled herself over the edge.

She shut her eyes and laid with her cheek pressed to the shingles for a moment, but then Daryl was blindly pushing her rifle onto the roof beside her. She leaned over the edge to grab the ammo from him and to see if he needed help getting up there, but after he handed the ammo up to her he moved toward the door.

“What are you doing?” she practically shrieked, gaping at him.

“I can't get up there, and I can help out on the ground.”

He wasn't making eye contact with her, and she felt stupid for not realizing sooner that he had planned this all along. She could be useful up on the roof, picking off walkers with her rifle, but she'd barely made it up there even with him helping her. He wouldn't be able to pull himself up without help, and of course he couldn't just stand around in the dusty attic waiting for her while everyone else was in danger. It was infuriating being coddled like that, but if keeping her in a safe place would keep him from being distracted then she supposed that was the best she was going to get. It wasn't like he'd help her down if he didn't want to anyway.

She nodded, not wanting to waste any more precious time, and he looked relieved that she wasn't going to fight him on this.

“You'd better come back for me,” she said sternly, though she could feel her eyes watering, “I don't want to get stuck up here.”

He said nothing, just nodded and walked away.

She took a deep breath, but the screaming from below brought her to her senses. She had no time to think about her own wants and needs. She had a job to do.

It felt like an eternity before the community got things under control. A rudimentary fence had been erected, and they'd managed to clear out the walkers that had made it in. She'd done her part, picking off as many walkers as she could before she ran out of ammo. After that it was nothing but frustration. There was no way she could get down without help, and she felt useless sitting up there while everyone else was fighting for their lives below her.

***

She couldn't tell how many people had been killed from her perch, and she sat there restlessly, fighting off the urge to panic. There was nothing to do but wait until Daryl came back for her. 

She was sure he would. She refused to believe otherwise. But with every minute that went by her anxiety increased. She could see people shuffling around below her, but it was way too dark to make out any of their features. But after a while she saw someone approaching the house with a sense of purpose, and she sighed in relief. She'd recognise that gait anywhere. Soon she heard his footsteps on the wooden floor of the attic.

God how she wanted to be angry with him, but as she leaned over the edge of the roof to look in the window, all she felt was concern. He looked worn down.

“Are you ok?” she asked, searching what parts of him she could see for any signs of injuries.

He nodded, and watched her for a moment. 

“Are you sure?”

He nodded again.

“Lost a few people. None of ours, though,” he said as he leaned out the window, “C'mon, I'll help you down.”

Getting down way way trickier than getting up. She handed her things down first, and then shifted so her legs were hanging off the edge of the roof.

“Don't let me fall.”

“I won't,” he said as she slithered further over the edge.

The initial drop over the edge was terrifying, and her heart was in her throat as she felt his hands gently grasp her feet and guide them toward him. It felt awkward and clumsy as she scrambled for purchase.

There was less concern for where his hands were going as he helped her down. They slid up her calves and thighs, and then he was clutching her just below her ass, his fingers accidentally slipping under the edge of her shorts. She wasn't sure if he'd realized it or if he'd just been too focused on keeping her from falling, but once she saw his face she knew he knew.

Finally she eased her way down, sitting once again on the windowsill and trying to contain her anxiety. She smiled at him, but was so distracted by how badly her hands were shaking that it took her a minute to realize he was standing right between her legs, his hands still clutching her hips tightly. He was shaking too, but he didn't step away from her. He moved toward her suddenly, dropping his head to her shoulder. His breath was hot against her neck, and she reached a hand up to cup the back of his head. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers as he breathed heavily.

“You sure you're ok?” she asked, and he shifted, nodding into her neck.

“It was a mess down there,” he mumbled, “I'm glad you weren't there.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said, slightly offended.

“I know. I just... I saw all the bodies, and I was glad none of them was you. I can't lose you.”

And that was all it took. She leaned back, pulling his head off her shoulder. He seemed confused, until she leaned in and kissed him.

The change in him was instantaneous. Suddenly he was grasping her face in his hands, kissing her back with every ounce of energy he had. He was so forceful in his enthusiasm that she almost fell backward out the window, but he pulled her in against him, pressing himself between her spread legs. She could feel him growing hard already, so she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him tighter. Her reward was a low rumble in his throat, and his hands slid from her hips down to her ass, lifting her with ease. He never stopped kissing her as he stumbled blindly toward a pool table that had been pushed against the wall, dusty from disuse. She laughed as he nearly lost his footing, all but throwing her onto the table. It was amazing to her that the shy, reserved Daryl she'd always known had been replaced by this man who was tugging at her top before she'd even settled on the table.

The few times she'd allowed herself to imagine sex with Daryl, she'd always pictured it going slowly, with lots of coaxing on her part. And while she might have liked their first time to be slow and gentle, they'd passed that point a long time ago. The tension had built up so much that there was no room for anything but this feeding frenzy.

She pulled at his shirt as his hands and mouth went to work on her breasts. Temporarily distracted, she arched her back and ground her hips against his, moaning softly at the friction. His hands trailed down her body, and he tried to slip one inside her shorts, while the other clumsily fumbled with his belt. She laughed at his enthusiasm, and nudged him away for a moment.

“One thing at a time,” she said, pressing her lips against his.

He huffed impatiently, but acquiesced, burying his face against her neck as he tugged gently at her shorts. She lifted her hips up and he pulled them off, along with her underwear. She pulled her top over her head as he leaned back and started to unbutton his shirt, but he froze in place when his eyes caught on the scars Ed had left on her stomach and sides, on terrible nights when he thought it would be fun to bring a knife to bed.

“Carol,” he said, and he looked like he was going to pull away from her.

“Don't,” she said, reaching out for him, “Come here.”

He let her draw him toward her, and leaned over until his body was covering her, shielding her from the world.

“'M sorry,” he whispered into her collarbone, pressing kisses to it.

“Don't,” she said again, and worked on the buttons of his shirt. He helped her this time, shrugging it off his shoulders and letting it drop onto the floor.

She ran her fingers across the scars on his back, silently telling him that it was all the same to her. He didn't want pity any more than she did. He seemed to understand, and pulled away slightly as she ran her hands down to his belt buckle.

Suddenly he was kissing her again, and just like that the somber mood was broken. She could have sworn he whimpered as her hand closed around his dick, and he eagerly reciprocated, reaching his hand between her legs to stroke at her. He pushed his fingers inside, pumping them into her as she stroked him, but as if a signal had gone off they seemed to realize at the same time that this pale imitation of the real thing simply wasn't enough.

He gripped her hips and pulled her closer to the edge of the pool table, watching her for a second until she nodded her consent. She had never wanted anyone so badly. His hands were shaking as he gripped himself, and slowly pressed into her. He stopped and kissed her until she hooked her heels around his hips and pulled him toward her.

“Please,” she whimpered, and suddenly he was moving.

It was slow at first, as if he was afraid he'd hurt her, but she urged him on, and he quickly picked up the pace, building up steam until he was pounding into her so hard that the pool table was creaking and inching across the floor. She laid back and let it happen, marveling in the feeling of his muscles under her fingertips, and his breath on her neck and he panted against her.

He cursed, and that was all the warning she got before he came, hips still pumping into her at an erratic pace until he suddenly stopped. He all but collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily, but it only took him a moment to realize that she hadn't gotten off. She didn't mind so much; it had felt good, and considering the sex life she'd had with Ed she considered that a gift. She wasn't too bothered, so she was surprised when he pulled out, only to immediately replace his dick with his fingers.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, and she smiled at the ceiling.

“I'm ok,” she said, as he circled her clit with one finger.

“Yeah fuck that,” he said, and dipped his head between her thighs.

She was slightly horrified that he was putting his fingers and tongue there while his come was slowly trickling out of her, but he clearly didn't care because he began to lick and suck in earnest. It felt nice, but it took an embarrassingly long time before she felt herself building up to an orgasm. He didn't seem deterred, and eventually his patience paid off, and she gripped his hair and arched her back as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

He smiled shyly at her as he pulled away, and as she began to catch her breath she couldn't help but run her finger across his chin, through the wetness soaking his beard and cheeks.

“Got a little something there,” she said with a smile, and he laughed and wiped his arm across his face.

She wrinkled her nose with distaste, but she was still smiling as she reached for her clothes. 

“Better get back,” he said, blushing a little.

They pulled on their clothes in comfortable silence. She could feel him looking at her out of the corner of his eye, but she didn't feel the need to discuss what they'd done. It felt like a natural progression of their relationship, and he seemed ok with that, gauging by the way he reached over to straighten her collar, making eye contact and smirking at her. She huffed out a laugh at the look on his face. She'd never seen him looking so pleased with himself.

He gathered up her gun and made for the door, but she put her hand on his arm to stop him. She turned him around and kissed him gently on the lips.

“Oh thing,” she said, brushing his hair out of his face, “If you ever, ever trick me like that again, you won't be getting laid again for a very long time.”

He laughed, and preceded her down the stairs.

“Noted.”


End file.
